


The Symphony of Violin and Guitar

by QUALITYDUMBASS



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Forgiveness, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Music, Musicians, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QUALITYDUMBASS/pseuds/QUALITYDUMBASS
Summary: Technoblade can’t stop thinking about his best friend who moved away, and the song that plays in his earphones. What if the past is the past for a reason? Or can we defy the fate the universe has picked out for us like expensive clothing, leaving behind everything we previously knew in the pursuit of happiness? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that Wilbur Soot is somewhere in New York and he has to find him.Wilbur Soot has started a new life, one in which he is free from his internalized homophobia. But yet, he wonders what would happen if he kissed back that night? Could he find and fix things with Techno, or were their interactions doomed to fail? He has not the faintest idea. All he knows is that Techno Blade is somewhere in the world and he has to find him again.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/Technoblade, techbur
Kudos: 20





	The Symphony of Violin and Guitar

**Author's Note:**

> This story is proofread by one of my best friends, Tyberious.  
> Please note that Wilbur and Techno aren’t related in this.  
> This work doesn’t use the real streamers, but rather their characters.  
> Enjoy! <3

Techno stepped off of the train, the buds of his earphones pressed against the tender cartillage of his pale ears. He pulled one out to hear the bustling New York ambience over his music, a varied mix of nostalgic pop and gentle classical, each song tugged at the brunette’s heartstrings further as he reminded himself why he was here in the first place.

He upgraded his brisk, calm walk to a faster jog, well as fast as he could move with a suitcase and a violin strapped to his back. A small sigh escaped the boy’s mouth as he continued to push himself forward through the busy streets of New York City. Everything seemed fast to him as the world spun round and round, only a few clouds above him which barely grazed the baby blue sky.

He nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the next song slide into his ears, silencing his reflex to skip it.  
“Waking up in the middle of the night, blurry eyes into my telephone light.” Techno lowered his gaze as the lyrics pierced straight through him and only for one reason: this used to be Wilbur’s favourite song on their playlist.

The strumming of the guitar made him flash back to that night on the top of their high school, Wilbur’s fingers over the polished oak wood of his worn guitar, he looked so beautiful in the moonlight, as if he were an angel descended straight from the clutches of ‘God’. But Techno ruined all of it when he took his chance, that one fucking chance and kissed his best friend. He ruined it all that night.

A frown settled over his aristocratic features as he pulled out his phone. He couldn’t bring himself to skip the song, imagining the curly haired boy whining at him yet again.  
“Come on, Tech, keep it on!” He’d say, a grin over his face. Techno didn’t think it was fair, how he got to carry on with his life while he was stuck thinking of his hazel eyes as his phone screen bounced off of them - and damn, his smile.

He shook his head. That’s wasn’t what he was meant to be focusing on, he reminded himself as he opened his notes app and studied the address of his new New York apartment, using Google Maps to plot the direction towards it. Now that was sorted, Techno skipped the song, happy to be free of James Bays’ impressive vocal range, but somehow the voice in his head slipped back in.  
‘How much do you bet Wilbur was also listening to it?’  
He balled his fists and continued walking, having learnt not to appease the voices. They’d come back eitherway.

Techno relieved the tension from his pale hands when he felt blood trickling down his fingers, seeing that his barely sharp nails had left markings in his palms again, earning a half-hearted groan. He finally turned to an apartment building and began to elevate the stairs, ready for his legs to snap any moment. 4 floors, and a fuck ton of money for rent. Welcome to NYC.

He briefly fiddled with the brass doorknob on his door before it let him in, his eyes dull as he looked around his new home. The windows showing off a rather unflattering view were spotted with condensation as a result of the cold weather.  
“‘Home Sweet Home’.” Techno mumbled, the lies foreign on his tongue like popping candy, each igniting after a sweet moment of peace. He brought his fingers to the glass and brushed the skin of his hand against it, not even flinching when the cold overtook it. He was used to the frostbite like sensation by now. Heating was always expensive.

He picked a spot on the floor before placing down his suitcase and violin, stretching his arms out and yawning. Two days from California to New York wasn’t the best but at least it was better than by plane. Techno hated planes, but he knew Wilbur probably took one. The brit was always talking about his love for travel and seeing the world from a bird’s eyes. It was one of his more alluring traits.

He idled before going to examine the kitchen supplied with the apartment, each appliance looking worn after multiple uses, but definitely not damaged. Techno sighed to himself as he pulled out his earphones. His playlist had approached the ‘why are you listening?’ phase of songs, but deep down he knew that listening to even a few minutes more would beat his record.

After Wilbur left, he’d challenged himself to try to get to the end of the three hour playlist they’d curated together, however it just didn’t seem possible. As soon as he hit the ‘Just for Tonight’ mark it was almost as if the tears couldn’t be held back. He missed the brit and it was no secret.

Techno bit his lip at the dissatisfying noise of plastic earbuds on concrete - meaning that he’d lost again - however the sound of small water drops falling was equally as frustrating. He was crying again. How pathetic. Out of instinct his hands flew to his face to wipe away the solution.

He’d thought about trying to contact Wilbur before, but everytime he tried to call his number he got the same ‘You have been blocked by this caller’ speech. On the off chance he could use a friend’s phone to call as soon as the brit heard his voice that number was added to the blocked list. Techno questioned whether he really hated him, or whether he just was straight. 

Eitherway, his rejection had crushed him into a shell of his old self, having sunk into tutoring jobs and violin as a result of his heartbreak. He remembered each and every note of Wilbur’s songs, the way his fingers would gently strum down on the opaque strings, and even better the way his eyes always moved to the greek mythology nerd.

Then maybe he was gay and he just didn’t like Techno. The thought shook him to his core.  
“Hopefully not.” He thought aloud. The brunette sighed and forced himself to think of something to do, the blank apartment filled with only his own thoughts bored him. He decided to call one of his good friends, Dream.

The blond was surprised when his phone buzzed, the screen name ‘Blade’ showing up as it rung. He groaned and picked up.  
“Hey, Techno. What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry, I just had to call you. I was thinkin’ of Wilbur again and I had nothin’ else to do and-” Techno begun to ramble but he was quickly cut off by Dream.  
“Hey, breathe, it’s okay. I know you miss him but maybe moving to NYC wasn’t the best idea.”

“I know.” Dream was braced for an argument but he was surprised when those words came out of the brunette’s mouth. “I just, I couldn’t bear goin’ on with my life knowin’ I could’ve done more to find him.” He could feel the other’s closed, anxious body language through the shakiness in his voice.

“Those are good morals to have, Tech, but it doesn’t matter if it hurts you in the process.” His voice went up a few notches to indicate desperation, but he knew his signs were lost on the boy.  
“I guess...Thank you for lettin’ me call you up, I just needed someone to talk to.”  
“No problem. Hey, have you heard that there’s going to be a music festival in New York this weekend? You’ll probably be going to that now.” Dream leant back in his chair as he let out a devious chuckle. He was fully aware of one fact that the brunette didn’t know.

He completely blanked on the other’s suspicious comment though. “Maybe. That’s actually a pretty good idea, now you’ve mentioned it I might go.”  
“Great! Now, I’ve gotta go, but feel free to call if you need anything.”

After Dream hung up, Techno placed his head down on the counter, his eyes feeling heavy. He thought the jet lag and constant travel had finally caught up to him but just as he begun to fall asleep standing, he heard the song. 

“♪ Call me right back, call me right back. ♪”

This made him jolt awake, he skipped the song as he steadied himself on his feet. “Shit- shit-” He sighed. He wasn’t getting better, at all, everytime he heard any song out of the british singer James Bay’s discography he was reminded of his very own brit. The one who’d betrayed him.

Techno narrowed his eyes and let Pink Lemonade play next. Everyone had to die of something, and this one was okay.

“♪ Don’t fall into my arms, don’t ask me to repeat it. ♪”

He reminded himself of the endless touches he and his best friend shared, from comforting hugs to that one kiss. He remembered there being electricity behind it and not just his own desperation. But thinking about it now, Techno put it up to his imagination. Wilbur would never feel the same way.

“♪ Don’t suffocate my heart, I don’t know what I’m feeling. ♪”

The brunette resisted an urge to hiss at the ironic lyrics. His hands went from the concrete of his kitchen counter to the flaking plaster on the thinly wallpapered walls, a few atoms of paint coming loose at the sudden appearance of his pale fingers. He told himself to fix this apartment up properly as soon as possible, even the scent of old fabric and worn carpet making him feel sick to his stomach.

“♪ Do you wanna talk, do you wanna talk it through? ♪”

Techno steadied himself yet again at the lyrics nearly perfectly reflecting his life, straightening his glasses with his left hand while his right explored each crevice of the wall. He wanted to forget whatever pain he felt right now but he knew the violin wasn’t adequate. Even through it’s melancholic hum and beautiful melodies he’d always hear the bass hits of Pink Lemonade through it.

“♪ Swear I ain’t got anything on my mind- ♪ ” “♪ I don’t wanna talk to you, so don’t ask me. ♪”

He stumbled forward into the bedroom which belonged to him and him only now, examining the mattress that occupied the steel bedframe. It was stained in a few spots with dirt and bodily fluids from whichever fucker used it previously. They were probably half way across the world, drunk or high off their heads and having a better time than him.

Techno let this thought comfort him and curled up on the old mattress. He wasn’t sure whether it was his own fatigue or the song that got him to sleep but soon he found himself at peace, until Wilbur appeared in his dreams.

“♪ I wanna drink Pink Lemonade, watching movie trailers til it’s late. And let’s remember all the ones that we think are gonna make our hearts break... ♪”


End file.
